Flour Power
by Rosie eisoR
Summary: One-shot. Gary is mortified when Cythera informs him that his squire has managed to blow up the gardens.


I only ever store my fics online, to save my hard-drive, so (in case of catastrophe) I'm putting some of the fics up here that usually only my LJ flist are unlucky enough to be privy to. I hope you enjoy them!

This was written for AlmightyChrissy's birthday. It's something that was on my mind after finishing the last chapter of _Knight Swap_.

* * *

"It's about your squire."

Four words Gary dreaded. Four words that made him curse the day he switched with Raoul.

Four words that, currently, were making him blush so hard that he suspected his hair might be the same fetching shade as his cheeks.

He wanted to simply walk away. It was a very attractive idea. He would just _keep walking_. No enquiries, no blushing, and (best of all) no Douglass. Unfortunately, this was not a particularly viable option. Father would find him. Douglass was always helpfully pointing out that there was nothing the man couldn't do.

Well. Nothing but stop Douglass.

Resigned, Gary asked, "What has he done, my lady?"

Cythera – why _Cythera_, Douglass? – hesitated. "I was unsure whether to bring it to your attention or not, but – it was quite a _big_ explosion."

Gary only just managed to swallow the swearword on the tip of his tongue. Luckily, most words failed him when Cythera was around, so he was almost, almost used to it by now. "Where?" he managed hoarsely.

"The gardens," she answered, sounding apologetic, her large blue eyes fixed on his. "It has been cleared up by now, but I have been wrestling with my conscience all day, wondering if I should tell you."

Gary had never been so thankful for Douglass. "Did – ah – are – I mean, I'm glad you did. Tell me. Ah. Thank you."

Everybody else, with _everybody else_, the words came so easily. Right now, when he was desperate for it, his vocabulary failed.

She smiled at him then, in relief. "I am glad I did as well."

He couldn't work out whether she meant she was pleased to have it off her conscience, or that she was glad to be speaking to him. Just as he was about to ask her if she would dance with him next week (no harm in getting it in early), she opened her mouth again.

"There was – Squire Douglass shouted something about a Lord Theodore? I'm not familiar with him, but I wondered if it might be useful."

Gary put a hand to his head. Revenge. How wonderful. "I told him I had nothing to do with that bear going missing," he gritted out.

"I am sure you did not," Cythera replied sincerely. "I am sure _you_ are a man of your word. I-"

His hand had fallen back to his side, and he willed her silently to continue, but she seemed to have stopped, producing a blush to match his earlier. He wanted to comment, but thought it probably imprudent.

"Your approval means a lot to me," Gary admitted, voice low. He moved closer to her, watching her eyes grow a little wider. Encouraged by the fact that, otherwise, she did not move, he added, "I do believe I would rather have your approval than one hundred obedient squires who produced no explosions whatsoever."

"Yes, well, I imagine my approval is a great deal easier to provide food and lodging for," she said quietly.

He smiled. "Probably. I'm not really sure I have enough wisdom to impart on one squire; perhaps one-hundred would be rather too much for me to deal with, obedient or not."

She gave a half-laugh, raising her chin ever-so-slightly, and _oh_.

He was going to have to leave. Douglass had left him with pitifully thin patience, and he did not want to ruin things with Cythera by blurting out something inappropriate just when they were going so well.

"I suspect I had better track down my wayward squire, then," he said lamely.

"I suppose so," she answered (reluctantly? He couldn't tell), taking a step back. "I hope it goes well."

Then, there was really nothing left to do but bow, and take his leave.

* * *

"Did you do it?"

"Yes."

"Was he angry?"

"I should think so. You made quite the mess in that garden."

"They cleared it up. It looks just the same as always now. Well. A few less flowers, I suppose, but they can always find new ones. It needed redecorating."

"I'm not sure the Queen would agree with you."

"Oh, hush now. It's already been done; it's too late to disapprove. Are you coming?"

"I don't feel right about blaming Squire Douglass."

Gwynnen sighed, flicking her hair back over her shoulder. "Well, it will teach him a thing or two about telling Sir Raoul that I think myself promised to him, and that I have already informed my family. Now, we'll be conspicuous by our absence if we don't hurry. Are you coming?"

Cythera nodded, but let her friend walk on ahead of her. She leaned against the wall, pressing a hand to her burning hot cheek.


End file.
